I have been listless and more than a little down in the dumps lately.
The visit of my long-time friend Suzanne from London, Ontario, brightened my mood some, as we filled our time together with long talks, movies, shopping and eating at some of her favorite spots (mine, too!) But it has been cold and I have been gloomy and when I am I often think back to Paris. It felt like a good time to participate in Paulita's
Dreaming of France party.
Because of the sadness in my heart, I suppose it made some sense to revisit the Montmartre Cemetery in Paris. Rick and I did this with "
Peter's Paris" blogger Peter who was a terrific guide to not only the cemetery but to the area in general.
It was a rainy day as we walked by the graves of the famous and the ordinary. The rain made the stones deeper, richer in color. The flowers just "popped." (I believe this was composer Jacques Offenbach's grave.)
I can't hear the guitar music of Fernando Sor (which Rick will play on occasion) without thinking of seeing his resting place.
The sculpture was beautiful and poignant. It cried out with emotion, sorrow and grief.
This is my favorite photo from the trip. As you know, I love cats and there are generally more than a few roaming the cemeteries of Paris. But on this day, it was very rainy (think "April Showers," which capsulized our April in Paris.)
At the time we were in Paris, our Marmelade Gypsy was back home in Michigan, every day closer to his last. (We lost him about two weeks after we returned). I was having a lot of separation issues on that trip, for though I knew he was in safe hands, I also knew his health was very fragile, something that if I'd known when we booked the trip, we may not have gone at that time.
Eager to see one of the "cemetery cats," I was thrilled to find this one hiding on a shelf in an elaborate marker. I didn't dare get too close -- I didn't want to scare him. So I snapped the photo and thought little more about it. But when I saw the pictures later, I was entranced by both the memory and this handsome cat.
I didn't get another cat right after Gypsy died. I couldn't. But then a friend was fostering a mom-cat and her kittens and while the kittens were easy to place, Mom was less so. But I was willing to take her on.
Right now she is purring right beside me and every time I look at her I think of the Montmartre Cat. No, they aren't dead ringers for each other. But perhaps that cat imprinted its pretty black-and-white features on the heart of this soul who loves her orange cats. Maybe. Just maybe.
Postscript: For more on the beautiful statuary at Montmartre's cemetery, visit Peter's great post HERE.
